AUTHOR: Captain Devine
SUMMARY: Chase needs to make some fast cash, and only has one way to get it.
RATING: PG-13 (some implied sex and innuendo).
PAIRINGS: Chase/Cameron, House/Wilson, slight House/Chase.
SPOILERS: SLIGHT unimportant things from 'Forever' 2x22, 'Cursed' 1x13, 'The Mistake' 2x8 and 'Mob Rules' 1x15
DISCLAIMER:Pwnage? Yeah. Ownage? No.
A/N: OMFG EASTER CANDY LOLZ Okay. Here's a scary little Crack!fic. Review, please. (makes that sad!Wilson face)
It wasn't like Chase wasn't rich. He was a doctor, for Christ's sake! But sometimes even the richest have trouble paying debts. Especially debts to New Jersey mobs.
He didn't mean to get involved, but Chase often found himself caught up in predicaments that had very little options. Like dating Cameron.
Now, Chase had no reason to expect anything major would happen as a result of finally getting to tap that immunologist ass, other than the obvious (a pissed off Cuddy, a mocking House, his emotions tearing at his soul). But something always goes wrong the day you meet her father.
Usually your girlfriend's dad will look you up and down, grill you until you've let out more of what's under your bed than your mother knows, and give you a twelve and a half minute lecture in great detail of how your nether region will be remodelled if you hurt her in any way. But Cameron's father was different.
Things are always different with a mob boss.
"Doctor Chase," a voice had called from behind a curtain of smoke. "Come in." Chase had stuffed his hands into his pockets and walked into the room. He was supposed to go out with Cameron that night, but she had insisted he meet her father.
Extending his hand to the figure before him, he had cordially addressed him. "Good evening, sir." His hand had been shaken, a seat had been offered, and a drink had been poured before the man Chase had met came into view.
And even to this day, Chase wishes the smoke had never cleared.
"You," Cameron's father had gasped, dropping his glass of scotch onto the floor. "You!" Chase had felt fear cascade down his spine as the glass shattered. He had begun to shake his head, pointing at Chase and yelling something in Italian. Several other men had rushed into the room and punched Chase, sending his crashing to the floor.
"What?" Chase had coughed through the taste of blood filling his mouth. Cameron's father had muttered something and Chase was placed roughly back into his seat and two men had stood behind him, a hand on each of his shoulders. Cameron's father glared at him.
"I can't believe he'd have the balls to send his son after us. Even after he died," he had spat, and Chase remembered the genuine hatred in his voice.
"What are you talking about?" Chase had asked, confused.
"Are you telling me your father never told you about his dealings with us?" Chase had shaken his head no. "Rowan Chase owed us a lot after killing Tony. But he'd refused to comply with our terms of repentance. You see, Robert," Cameron's father had obtained a smirk. "He owed us $4 million dollars."
"What?" Chase had coughed out in disbelief. Cameron's father had laughed and taken a swig from the bottle of scotch.
"Four million dollars. But he refused to pay. So. . ." Cameron's father had made a slitting motion with his finger to his throat and Chase gasped.
"No! He had lung cancer," Chase had tried to contradict him.
"Oh, I know. We killed him before that did. But Mr. Chase, there's still the matter of that money."
Chase had taken the hint, but didn't want to admit to it. "What do you mean?"
Cameron's father had adopted a blank look on his face. "We want you to pay it, Robert," he had stated simply. "But there's a different way we want it from you. . ."
And that's how Dr. Robert Chase became a hooker.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .